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Dirakkis Turn 6
Actions: Skaldaea: Skaldaean news outlets touted Amaranth's success to the heavens, citing his track record in serving the kingdom. Tamer received a number of glowing mentions, and even Flenser, who had been somewhat disgraced in the eyes of the nation, saw a recovery in his social standing. Skaldaea's population growth stalled as enterprising citizens flocked to Val'dem, Amaranth's newly established city state and port of the kingdom. However, from Skaldaea proper, Raven realized this land would not be enough for her fledgling people, and ordered Tamer to make his way south, establishing more farmland along the southern coast of Tamer's Shallows. (Expansion, I'll point to it when you get home x1). Meanwhile, back beneath the towering crags of Raven's Roost, the scientists continue their valiant effort to stall the effects of the Dark Moon. Realizing that their compound was being absorbed through the skin, they mixed a different set of chemicals, which, besides forming a cream that was less likely to be inhaled or swallowed, was unlikely to be absorbed through the skin, except in rare cases. Then, these brave, enterprising souls tested them on animals first. (Dark Moon Techx1). In the royal council chambers of Skaldaea proper, meanwhile, Amaranth and Raven, along with a number of their advisors, discussed a major shift in the nation's direction. "With the establishment of Val'dem, the idea of Skaldaea as a sovereign city is simply unfeasible, Raven, you must see that! You and I both know you can't keep these vast lands under control, especially with the population exodus." Raven scowled, but nodded in her seat. "Yes, but I'll see this country burn to the ground before I let you run off into the wilderness and set up your own kingdom. I've worked too hard to unite our people, and I refuse to see them turn against each other now, in our moment of triumph." Amaranth, frustrated, fiddled with the end of his mustache, while another member slammed a fist down on the table. Amaranth's speaking member jumped, shocked at himself, before starting to speak again. "So you will see us descend into war once again, Raven?" "Is it to be war so soon, Amaranth? I had Flenser pegged for the violent one, not you. No, there are other ways. Skaldaea may not be strong enough to control her new territories, but she remains a cultural focal point of our people. A league of states, independent in private affairs, but united in defense, trade, and, in the large scheme of things, culture, could prove effective." Amaranth's speaking member made his way back to the table, and sat across from Raven, chuckling. "A league based here in Skaldaea, under your control. Well, you may be right. Certainly, Skaldaea is the center of our people. Why change that? Very well. Let us draw up the papers." (Culturex1, Reformation of Gov. to League of City-States, known as the Skaldaeic League.) Meanwhile, outside the palace, Flenser's members stalked the flimsy wooden parapet that surrounded the city. Beyond it, he saw a vast area, hundreds of band-holdings(Skaldaean size measurement based on farmland to support average band) out from the protection of the gates. "This simply won't do. The Stahl merchants have seen our defenses, and I tell you, they weren't impressed. They'd slaughter half our citizens before they met any resistance." "But sire," spoke up his page, "we aren't at war with the Stahl. They were friendly traders." "YES!" exclaimed Flenser. "They are today! But what of tomorrow? I saw the weapons they made! Those are advanced craftsmen, well armed. We don't know their numbers or their motives. And what of others out there? There could be thousands of peoples like them, scattered across the plains, or perhaps more land beyond the great water. No. Defenses are needed. Stone. Good strong stone. Now, grab your quill boy, and record this. I want all my plans sketched out by the time we retire for the evening." (Defensive Techx1, Skaldaean City Walls) Gorash: Songs of Stamping The Newly Tamed Beasts of the swamps were quickly found to be popular with the vast majority of Gorashi Society. The one major downfall of the beasts presence however was their complete lack of vocalization. How could such a musically inclined people burden themselves and their communities with a mass addition of hulking mutes. And so it was that the village Bards decided that they would attach bells and chimes to the beasts, so that they could have a sound all their own. A strange side effect of this change was that the beasts began to develop slight ticks and tremors that some thought were the beginnings of a dance routine. So began a thriving new entertainment industry, Dancing Swamp Salamander troupes. (1 Income) Songs of Training The Beasts had begun to dance and while that was all very amusing and whatnot, the Village Bards decided it was high time the creatures be put to work. Craftsmen were called upon to assemble saddles and forge implements to tow heavy burdens. With this new assemblage of gear the beasts began to learn to use their strength with purpose, felling trees and rolling aside pesky boulders. The effort that the people of Gorash invested in these beasts may soon have been worthwhile all along. (2 Mil Tech) Songs of Searching The Bards of the Wild were not having the best of times. While the Village Bards had fixed the mistake with the Salamanders, they had come up with nothing but rotting clothes and bones. That is until one of their brethren returned from a half sunken ruin with the remains of a tablet. After careful discovery the tablet appeared to be a fragment of a much larger piece, covered in what appeared to be a half dozen different scores woven artfully into one. This was a portion of one of THE songs of Legend, the Song of Warping to be precise, that had in days of old been used to reduce hostile targets to nothing more than simpering idiots, captivated in the Song's soothing power. Each and every Gorashi among-st the Wilderness Bards was quick to gather his things head out into the wilds with renewed gusto, eager to bring home the completed version of the song so that all others may know him as the master musician, Chosen of the Gods. (3,4 Epic Tech- Mind Control Song) Zinbiel: “You wanna break? You have been watching that too long.” Tim was worried about Pyth. He hadn’t moved for what seemed like an eternity. “How long?” Pyth responded. “A while?” Tim did not fully understand the question. Quantity was still very much an abstract notion to most of Zinbiel, and that is precisely why Pyth sat and waited. He watched the sphere during every time interval imaginable by a Younger, but Pyth was determined to learn what the sphere had to offer. More days went by. Some people would say a whole turn was wasted staring at a stupid rock, but eventually the light shone through and cast shadows sprawling around the surrounding walls. On one side Pyth could make out a wolf killing a person, while the other showed animal shaped boats sinking, and large bird-like creatures attacking people down below. “I thought it told the future not the past” Tim whispered. Pyth was certainly puzzled. There were no numbers to speak of and it did appear to retell the death of many people to wolves and boat making. The birds, however, did not fit in the past. Birds rarely flew over Zinbiel because of the fierce cold. Maybe those people who died were not from Zinbiel. Maybe other people were out there. Pyth gathered the greatest minds he could find to construct a working boat. They did not have much direction, they just wanted it to be big to further exploration (Naval tech x 2). Pyth helped of course, but he couldn’t shake the image of the birds. Out of breath, Pyth slammed the door behind him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Looks like you saw a ghost”. Pyth had seen many birds flying in a v formation heading straight for him, so he took shelter in the closest building, a bar. “B...B…Birds” Pyth stammered out a response. “You’re afraid of birds? HA HA” the whole tavern erupted into laughter. “Just take these rocks and kill the damn things if you are so scared”. The rocks fell at Pyth’s feet. He slowly picked them up and sat in a corner of the tavern contemplating his next move. He couldn’t comprehend how he was supposed to throw one of the rocks that high. They were way too heavy. He sat there and nervously grinded them together. The bartender approached him asking if Pyth wanted him to kill the birds. “Just get them away” Pyth responded handing the rocks to the unnamed bartender. “Fuck!” the bartender yelled. The grinding had caused the rock to become too sharp to handle. ‘Now that could kill a bird’ Pyth thought to himself. If only he could handle it easier (Military Bonus against flying things x2) Side note: Sorry I didn't post last turn. Facebook doesn't translate smoke signals apparently... I'll try to do better. Akachk: Atop one of the great trees of the peninsula, Winan peers through his large copper telescope, holding it with both hands. As he surveys the landscape, he dictates information to his partner, Tesa, who is scrawling a very basic map of the area as he dictates information aloud. The pair continue like this for several hours, before making their way down the great trunk. The two have agreed upon a base camp nearby, from which they can continue to map the area. Winan and Tesa are just two of nearly three dozen scouts who have been sent out by the various tribes to prepare the lands for Akachk settlement. They will map the area, making note of any useful locations or dangerous elements, and then establish a small outpost for the Confederacy to house a garrison. With a seat of government established, immigrants will begin to slowly people the claimed lands, many of them staking formal claim to the land as they do. It is the aim of the three Chieftains to bring the entirety of the peninsula under the control of the Confederation. By doing so, they ensure that the Akachk will have plenty of room to grow, and enough resources to claim for their own. To this end, these scouts will lay the groundwork for future generations of settlers. (1-4, Expansion) Stormborn: Atticus was in council with the Syntolla when the split occurred. One moment he was inquiring as to the progress of the Moon Defense, the next moment his mind seemed to be ripped away from his body. No mortal was supposed to feel such pressures; it was as if his mind had expanded twenty-fold and then shattered into a million pieces. For Atticus time seemed to stretch forever in this state. He heard a cacophony voices all buzzing in his head and after a indefinable time he realized what they were. They were the voices of the Syngida, and it had grown. Each voice was a different infinitesimal part of the Storm, each one crying out to be heard by the Syntolla. The burden they bared seemed even more unimaginable to Atticus than ever. The pressure intensified and more voices joined in as an eternity away his poor human body let vent to its’ pain in an animalistic scream. Once he began distinguishing which voices were created by the Syngida he realized there were still other voices. Voices he recognized through the haze of pain. It was the others, the People of the Storm. Each of their thoughts and actions somehow lifted up into the Syngida to become a part of the whole. But there were also many voices he did not recognize, new voices that no doubt came from the Storm’s expansion. In a wrench, Atticus’ mind was jerked back into his body and became the small, limited thing that he had always known. He shuddered and gasped for breath, overwhelmed by all that he had experienced. He felt cold stone beneath his face, and with a start he realized that he must have fallen to the floor amid his mental torment. With a groan he rolled to his knees and his muscles loudly protested the idea, almost as if they had undergone a similar pain as the one inflicted on his mind. As his vision cleared Atticus realized with a start that he was still before the Syntolla, the Three looking as calm and sanguine as ever. He attempted to speak but found his mouth dry and his throat raw from his screams. With a whimper he swallowed and gasped out, “Wh-at… Ha-pen-ed?” his voice hoarse and pained. “The winds have changed,” The Three intoned in once voice, “we had hoped that you would step up and take charge in the position we gifted unto you.” A sliver of worry worked its way into his pain-filled voice, “Wh-at… Do… You… Me-an?” A look of pity seemed to enter the eyes of the Syntolla as they replied, “When we picked you we knew you as you were. You were scared, but you had the potential to overcome it. We thought if you were given the responsibility of all you might be able to become more than just yourself. We were wrong. Instead you squandered our gift and gave our power away. You ignored our warnings and you set up others to command you.” Dread seemed to sap away all else in Atticus as they pronounced, “Because of this, the winds have changed, and you are no longer our Eye.” Atticus collapsed where he knelt with a whimper. Even with face covered in shame he could feel the gaze of the three, their pity worse than any disapproval they could hold. He lay there for a time, trapped in place by guilt and shame he was unable to even lift his head. Finally, coming quietly almost as a whisper of sound the one known as Wind spoke, “There is yet hope for redemption.” Atticus head snapped up and his eyes blazed with need. If there was a way to make up for his mistakes he would take it, even if it meant his own undoing. The one known as Rain added, almost as an afterthought, “Of course you still will not be the Eye,” his hope deflated slightly, “But you can make ready the path for the one that will be.” Eager once more Atticus nodded his assent, “What is my task? I will do anything you command.” Thunder shifted and speared him with a glare, “You must accept the gift you once rejected as it was originally intended.” He rumbled in disapproval. The fear that had stopped him once before tried to claim him again, tried to stop him from doing what was right. This time Atticus stomped on it. He had spent too much time already in fear. Fear was the reason that he was in such a sorry state as this, and fear would not be his downfall this time. He might not be remembered as the best of leaders to his people, but perhaps he could be remembered for doing something right. Bowing his head, he rasped out his acceptance before his mind could change. Immediately agony once more reclaimed him, and he was lost for a time. (1: Culture) *** Elias had searched everywhere for Atticus. At some point in time he had gone missing. There were a number of people who reported seeing him go out to meet with the Syntolla. After almost six hours he emerged from that meeting and then vanished entirely. Elias had searched the entire island without finding a trace. Unsure of what else to do, Elias had called the council together to decide on the present courses of action. The failures in the Cloud Defense forced them to look in yet another direction. After much deliberation it was decided that perhaps Artemis’ lightning rods could be modified to create a field to block the Dark Moon’s influence. As with all things involving Artemis, the council simply hoped that nothing would explode. (2: Special Tech-Moon Defense) The council also concluded that Braeden’s success scavenging for valuables should not be ignored. To this end they placed him in charge of further deep sea searches. They also requisitioned Vivian to assist in making more sustainable and longer lasting air bubbles. (3: Income) Finally the council decided that trade with the Confederation could use some stimulation. Having found a small number of Stormborn versed in numbers, the Council created a team to work on this issue. The team was led by one known as Laurie Brighton, and there was a good amount of optimism that some way to increase profits for both nations could be found. (4: Special Tech-Improved National Trading) None of these decisions, however, lessened Elias’ concern. The few Stormborn sent to scout the new area encompassed by the Syngida had failed to return. Even worse, the few messages they sent back were jumbled and confused. The only part that seemed to make sense was that they all agreed that something called the Songbirds were coming, and even that was a mystery. Elias was unsure what the cryptic warning might mean, but whatever it might be he was certain it would bring a change that nobody would forget. Ramkarh: It was nearly dusk when Elarin and her scouting party began to pitch camp at the base of a small hillock. The court had recently been full of tension between the smiths and clergy, as the smiths refused to work and the High Priest had been irritatingly stubborn about refusing Batis admission to the Greater Palace. It seemed wrong any mortal should claim such influence over the gods, even if he did speak for the Greatest among them. That was what they would all tell you, at least, untrue though it was. Laiknathe was far wiser, far more generous, far stronger than the rest. But that was another matter. The conflict had been resolved under a compromise. The smiths would begin working again if they could be allowed to search for new land with richer silver deposits. (Expansion 1-2, Income 3) And when they had called for priests or priestesses to accompany them she’d had the good sense to volunteer. She wasn’t sure why she thought that would be a good idea. The smiths were a rough crowd, hard to put up with, and the heat was something awful. The sky turned to dark purple as she pitched her tent a short distance away from the rest of camp. Laik’Marin had given her and the rest of the sisters the rings and assured them they would stave off the curse of the dark moon. But it was no curse; no, it was nothing short of a blessing of Laiknathe herself. How was it no one else could see? As the moon rose higher she became increasingly restless. The ring itched at her finger. Her eyes darted to the camp and back as her hackles rose. She could always just take it off and – no. She would have to keep it on to understand how it worked; to understand how she might repurpose it. She slipped the other ring she had taken out of her pocket and stared at it intently. She turned it over in her hands as she began doggedly reciting a prayer. There would be no sleep tonight. (-60 gold, Dark Moon tech +2, 4). Kingdom of the Stars: The port of Hurstwic, the first trading post created by the people, prospered. The people grew fat there from the lush lands and the bounty of the forest. The offerings of goods to the other sentients continued but were not returned in kind. All attempts to communicate with the foreigners had failed. They did not understand the subtleties of the growls and gestures of the people, making only pitiful bleating sounds in return. Still, the people were obviously blessed by the mother in Hurstwic, as they grew wealthy and remained healthy. Now, it was time for them to be blessed by the father. This blessing took the form of Ake, the head of his hunters, and now his most powerful pupil. Ake ventured to hurstwic alone, with only his axe and spear to accompany him. He discovered a solution to the problems of their obviously selfish neighbors. He would give them a far more significant gift than they had ever received. Every week, the people of Hurstwic gave their neighbors a bundle of fish and furs. This week, Ake himself gave them an offering. He approached the guards at the edge of their borders and gave them a simple hatchet, made of wood and stone, but sharpened to a vicious point. It became apparent that the foreigners did not understand his meaning. They would soon learn. Later that night, when the Dark moon rose above, and the father's power would be at its mightiest Ake unleashed a series of earsplitting howls. The people arose from their beds, eyes blank. Man, woman, and child, for this night, at least, were forced to abandon their old selves. They replaced the hammers, nets, and plows of their trades with the tools of war. With axe and spear, they joined the master of the hunt in his gift. The first war had come to the people. (Armies x4) Declaration of war on neighborinos. Conclave of the Gods: Domnall curses the storm that brought him here, and goes back to trying to arrange the roof of his driftwood lean-to so that it could block out the rainfall. He was somewhere north of Golgannis, he knew that. An island of some kind. Normally, a god like him, a wandering god, could come and go as he wished, but his powers, he felt, had been getting steadily weaker. For the first time since he left, he worried about things. Not just for himself, bur for the other gods. Maybe they did stand a better chance of staying alive together. Maybe, by abandoning them, he had not only doomed himself but doomed the last of his kind. His kind. Her had never thought about it like that before, but it was true. They were a species alien to the rest of the world. No other living things operated by their rules. There was a rustling in the leaves outside his shack. Domnall had seen the natives of this island before, from his hideout in the trees. They looked intimidating. He was a small child, and, even though he was a god, unless the savages were planning on taking him to one of their bars, there wasn't much he could hope to do in a fight, and their scouts would find him eventually. Domnall steps outside into the rain and turns himself in to the feather-clad spearman outside. "You there. Take me to the leader." "Leader?" Domnall was confused. "I thought all humans had a leader." The spearman looks at the child. "You... you speak?" he says, suddenly realizing. "Yes." Domnall can't help but notice that others of his kind have gathered under the rainfall, beneath the palm trees. Their skin was a smooth, almond color. A little girl, slightly taller than him, walks up and touches the bow around his waist. "Stop that." he says. A voice rings out through the woods, but Domnall can't tell who's talking "Feather-folk! The savior has come!" "The what, now?" "The White War Child, who sailed here in his conch-shell boat!" "Where... I'm sorry, where the FUCK, do you see a conch-shell--" "He will lead the Feather-folk out of the cursed jungle, and into the pastures and guarded green lands of the Great Enemy!" "Death to the Great Enemy!" someone shrieks. "Glory to the White War Child and the Clanspears!" Domnall sits down cross-legged, deciding how he's going to take all this in. (expand on big-ass island north of Michael, 1-4). Stahl: It had been a while since the Stahl had heard anything from the Platinum. The city was in a fervor, both in excitement from the Platinum, and from having to expand the city beneath the mountain to adapt to the increased number of Stahl children. (Income 1)The were sorted through the orphanages till the foster families of their respective castes could take them in. The Stahl children would meet their biological families at the age of 13, but would be ingrained in the culture of their caste by then. The regional government came to a realization: the tradition of children learning their trade through family instruction would not suffice if such growth were to come. The Silverborn were tasked with creating the very first formalized school system for young Stahl. (Culture 2) Teachers from respective castes were selected from the most experienced and patient elders. The Steelborn children would have to be kept in a separate school, due to the "rigorous" nature of their educations. The Long-gang were unsuccessful in their attempts to harness the power of their soul stones, the most vulnerable and powerful piece of Stahl anatomy, to generate the heat of the mountain. They were not easily swayed. They upped their training regimen to include sparring in the lava, followed directly by meditation sessions on the banks of the magma river. (MAGMA KUNG FU epic military tech 3) The Steel Dragon was worried about the young Long-gang who had not yet returned from her visit from the Platinum. If she did not return soon they would need to pick from the Steelborn children a replacement. The Gold Kings were not swayed from their goal either. Debates had pressed on, while in secret, the Gold kids had ordered Liu Chii, current representative to the Skaldeans, to lead an expedition of 20 Steelborn southward to scout for settlement locations writhing the southern region of the mountains. He gladly accepted, having grown fond of travel. If they found rock suitable for carving new towns within, they would report back to have Coppermen and Ironborn follow to build. He was trusted, and would not be missed from the capital, as he was typically out of country these days. (Expand south 4). Aripa: The Philosopher had been absent for what seemed like an eternity to the people of the City. Time without the edicts of the philosopher passes agonizingly slow, but in a blurred fury, like the struggle to fall asleep with an active mind. Absent for so long, many doubted the existence of the philosopher at all. Suddenly a frantic Silver ran down from the steps of the philosopher's tower of bleached stone. An edict had arrived. "War is upon us. The disordered souls around us are gearing to battle. Sharpen your swords, work your sorcery, we must defeat those in flagrant disorder." (Military Army Raising 4). Commera: A God’s Harrowing Tale of His First Weeks “It was horrible. Our sustenance lasted for three days. After that, fights started breaking out. There was only enough sustenance for about ten percent of us.That meant we had to kill the other ninety percent. Which we did, by fighting and by starvation. This took a week.After what we call “The Death Week”, we began building. The problem… cont pg -Pung Darail Darovan Governor BuildingMission in Remora “It’s an exciting time,” said Darovan Governor Uridal Hemmon. Governor Uridal will be moving to Remora with his family and servants to better work with the remaining gods. His post will be cared for by his successor, Vunnen Hemmon.“Of course, money and resources are very important for this cause. But, it’s beneficial to have someone in the area, working to apply the resources in a … ” cont pg 3 Needless to say, Mayor Uridal is embezzling most of the money. The "Mission" he is setting up in Remora is more of a Mansion, and he doesn't plan on talking to the Gods if he can avoid it. (1-2: Expansion) He's got everything he needs for a yearlong vacation in warmer weather with his family and his servants. He's even got a fence to ensure that wild animals and poverty-stricken gods don't crash on his land. He's quite looking forward to the trip. He's always liked the idea of camping, but he's never had enough money to have a mansion while he does so. He plans on writing a book about his experiences and publishing it after he's dead. (3-4: Expansion tech) Phantasmagoria: With the passing of the Dark moon, a great banquet is held. Members of the Katoba nation come and build a great bonfire from dry branches in the forest. They dance and sing in merriment and feast upon the crops Hypnosomus has grown for them. The creatures themselves dance out of sight just beyond the clearing, and the giant stone-like protectors look on with pride. Occasionally a dancer might see one of these "spirits" just beyond the light of the fire and giggle in delight. They know these spirits are their friends, as they are the family of the God of the Forest. Breaking out into song once again, the crickets themselves seem to chirp to the music, as Hynosomus sings along. Income Hypnosomus thinks again toward the expansion of his empire. Although the Icelos are calming to Hypnosomus, they most certainly stress his mind when he is trying to create order. If the bigger Icelos will not lead the Icelos sprites, perhaps there is a plant that could make them work rather than sleep. --- An Icelos leader dazes under the shade of a tree, its blue ears twitching as it dreams of bounties of fruits and nuts. Its eyes open wide when it is awoken by the sound of a large nut falling to the ground. Upon impact, it had cracked open, revealing its beans inside. The leader curiously inspects the beans, and pops one in its mouth. Almost instantly, the creature it is running about, down the fields, dropping seeds from a seam in its bag as it runs. The sprites follow in curiosity and bewilderment at this new behavior, causing the seeds in their path to grow. Meta-Tech: coffee plants - Bonus to slow-growth tech rolls (get to work ya bums!!!) The animals look at the damaged fruit, and turn away. Hypnosomus reaches after each one with the fruit, pleading the corporeal beings to accept his humble gift to them and humble request in return. Perhaps this gift is not to the tastes of most creatures. He sighs, then finally, in determination, brings more fruits to the surface, in all shapes and colors and smells. The animals will accept one of these gifts. They must, or they might incur his wrath... "Transportation" meta-tech (continued): make raise-army rolls easier N.B.R. The streets of Whenaven are silent, and still. Shuttered windows clatter against walls, and the coast cows in the bay quietly spit jets of water at each other. The locked and barricaded doors show claw marks, where the rampant ursine menace had left its shaggy mark on the cityfolk. The wind whistling through the alleys is the only sound to be heard this night, as Elder Raddomn has called together a negotiations table. This table, a remarkable specimen, is over 20 feet wide, made of polished dark mahogany. Standing atop this table, the negotiators for each party prepare. For the NBR, Raddomn has sent his three most trusted advisors. Innovator Kerlioh, Hunter-Captain Ioriga, and Right-Hand-Fruit Mr. Mango, who is actually a pineapple. The bears, being, well, bears, don't actually send a formal delegation, but one wanders in accidentally. Quickly dubbed Sir Snufflebottom, the bear assumes a place on the table. The negotiations are long, drawn out, and occasionally are stymied by the fact that Sir Snufflebottom seemingly has no diplomatic training or in fact any language skills at all. Finally, after three days of endless debate, Mr. Mango somehow presents a summation of the issues at hand. First and foremost amongst the unbearable issues facing the four-legged animals, is a question of rights that will cause debate for generations to come. It's interpretation could lead to any number of potentially lethal situations, but it is one that Sir Snufflebottom is most insistent on. He communicates, through scratches, bites, growls, and flatulence, that he and his people are willing to serve as warriors, but only by choice. They will not be enslaved, forced to become weapons for someone else. But they demand the right to choose to be weapons. They demand the right to arm bears. This coincides neatly with the NBR negotiators demands. They too seek to expand their rights. They seek more freedom in their choice of weaponry. They demand the right to use whatever arms they want. They demand the right to bear arms. (Give me back my bears 1-3) Kerlioh's assistant, Jeb, uses the cow blower to direct the Coastal Cows to begin clearing the rubble they created when they where first brought to the harbor. While doing so, he discovers that they can be directed to help assemble the hulls of ships already in the water, speeding up construction of new hulls. (Navy Building tech 4) Results: Skaldaea: 13, 18, 8, 15 The land around Tamer’s Shallows proves to be incredibly fertile, due to the overflow of the reservoir during the seasonal rains of equatorial Della. It is regarded by many as the furthest reach of Skaldaea proper; any further south and tribal peoples become major players once again. (Expansion GET! -10 wealth, +5 income) Raven finds Tamer’s success as a great relief; while Val’dem had agreed to be a part of the proposed Skaldaeic League, the caveat of “under Raven’s control” had proven a point of great contention. The people of Val’dem, led by a band named Frost, had largely moved to the frontier to escape the Reyne worship common throughout the young nation’s capital. They fear that giving Raven dominion over them will lead to militarization and forced devotion to the ancient warlord. (no culture) Meanwhile, science and engineering boom within Skaldaea proper. The new cream uses a similar enough formula that it should prevent the effects of the draining moon, while having a significantly reduced fatality rate. Flenser is similarly in his element, as there is finally a (perceived) need for his unique set of talents. The walls of Skaldaea rise beyond the edge of the local farmland, a massive stonework that will protect both the city and her produce from attackers. (+4 defense, Dark Imoonity gained!) Gorash: 7, 9, 12, 12 (-2 to all rolls due to the presence of the Dark Moon) It was done at noon, when the salamanders were stillest. There, as they lay gently snoozing, the young Gorash began layering the chimes and bells across the massive beasts, as well as the large saddles that had been constructed for riding the beasts. For a moment, the boy paused. He wasn’t sure why they needed the saddles. The NTBs listened to the village bards quite well, when sung to properly. He was also fairly certain that the beasts made a horrendous noise, like a crying baby, when startled. “Why the hell are we making them louder???” he thought to himself. But he was here to do his job, and his job he did. Later that night, all hell broke loose. The salamanders, startled by the loud noises every time they moved around, began crying and rampaging once again, in cacophonous revolt against the torment the Gorash were subjecting them to. The village bards would not sleep for many weeks, as they sought to remove the baubles from the anxious beasts which now ravaged their lands. (REVOLUTION OF THE SALAMANDERS) Meanwhile, the Wild Bards had begun scouring the swamps for the remaining pieces of the song. Though many had found pieces of the tablet, they quickly made their way into the hands of a single singer, named Timbol. She had been the one to find the first piece, and it’s lyrics allowed her to lull her rivals into a sense of relaxation and security. As she gained more and more pieces, he power had only grown. Finishing the song would be all too easy. (One more success needed.) Zinbiel: 4, 18, 14, 13 The greatest minds of Zinbiel are not perhaps, the most intelligent. But they are far and away the most creative. The original designs for boats mad of ice are looked at once more, and it is decided that they will still form the basis of the ships. Carving large chunks of ice into a troughlike shape, they then cover it in pelts to insulate the ice from its passengers and the war sea water. The ice ships will be propelled by an animal fat soap, which is made into large cylinders and lowered into the water at the back of the ship to initiate motion. The result is a fleet of fast and clumsy vessels, which carry goods and passengers at the speed of surface tension. (Naval tech get, +3) Pyth looked for a long time before he figured out a good way to launch the sharp rocks into the air. It was actually kind of difficult to hold just a single one and make it fly, so he designed something based on his own motion of throwing. By hinging several pieces of wood together and winding beast entrails tightly, he could fling a small bucketful of rocks with the pull of a trigger. It took a while to wind up, but it worked. And in Zinbiel, that was what mattered. (Military tech get, flak crossbowapult: +2, doubled vs flying). Akachk: 3, 1, 12, 10 Vision can so often be a double edged sword. Those who think they have “vision” of what is to come often find themselves falling into the traps of prophecy, as often as those with sight find themselves looking at things that they would prefer not to see. The spyglass, is regarded as a tool of both of these things to the Akachk- it gives them sight of what they will find before they get there. And so as the scouts turn their eyes to the southeast, they find their wandering eyes attracted to the pulsating violet moon that is becoming ever clearer. One by one, the chieftains begin to receive reports of scouts falling into various levels of insanity. Some become known as skybound- kobolds that can no longer bring themselves to lower their eyes from the sky even when the sun has risen. They quickly go blind, but their necks remain craned ever upward. Others simply collapse into ranting and raving, spewing tales of demons and spirits and decay incarnate. With the Dark Moon set to arrive within the next few weeks, it is a worrying sign. (No expansions, -20 wealth) Stormborn: 8, 8, 18, 18 Atticus struggled for what seemed like an eternity under the weight of the minds of the Storm. Each time he would try to comprehend what was best, what the right course of action was, and each time he would be filled with doubt and pain, rising to shatter his concentration. Taking one last look skyward, his eyes became naught but white before fading to pale blue as his body collapsed and his mind became lost in the Storm. It was perhaps a good thing that Atticus had failed. In his absence, the council moves quickly and decisively, deciding that another should assist Artemis with his cloud tampering instead of him doing it alone. He had not been having much success anyway, and they could not suffer any more erosion. However, the air bubbles are improved significantly, and now the stormborn scavenge the wreckage of ships many meters beneath the ocean floor. It is still limited by time and pressure, but these are limitations that they have come to accept. The bubbles are also found to have a secondary effect of incredible preservation properties. The airtight bubbles significantly slow the rotting of plant and animal life, and prevent corrosion of volatile metals and minerals. This allows the trade of items over vast distances that normally would not keep. (No Dark Moon success, +4 income, +2 income from trade for the Stormborn and their trading partners) Ramkarh: 8, 3, 7, 13 (Dark Moon Immunity! Or Dark Imoonity) Throughout the course of their arguments with the priests, the smiths had formed a sort of union, which they called the Hammers of Batis. It was a powerful thing, and one that the king had hoped to stop the other craftsmen in the kingdom from forming. But each day that Batis went excluded, the smiths showed the power of their collective resolve. The mountains to the northeast of the capital were not only dusty and barren, but also devoid of valuable minerals. Within two weeks of their initial surveys, the miners and smiths had made a decision on the area – settlement was not worth the time and effort, and the Hammers of Batis would continue to strike until the King or the priests provided them with a more profitable area to work with. (-20 wealth, no expansions or income). Beneath the light of the violet moon, Elarin kneeled in prayer. Far away from the camp and the prying eyes of the smiths, she sent up the chant that she knew was needed to harness its power. Every hair on her body stood on end as she felt the push and pull between the moon and the power of the ring which protected her. Breathing deeply and continuing to chant, she slowly removed her ring, and felt her skin begin to warm in Dark Moon’s light. (Military + 2) Kingdom of the Stars: 11, 15, 4, 18 (-2 to all rolls due to the presence of the Dark Moon) The fur of the people shimmered in the light of the Dark Moon as they fell into ranks. Ake’s howl hand summoned them, had roused them from their peaceful lives to war, to take up arms against the selfish neighbors to the west. Now two massive packs of them had formed, every tool of their trades repurposed into slipshod weapons. Rakes and hoes became pikes, and clothes are layered and layered to become armor of heavy cloth. By the will of the father and his chosen pack leader, they would bring swift death to their enemies. (2 armies raised) Conclave of the Gods: 11, 20, 3, 17 Domnall is fairly conflicted by his “Chosen” status by the indigenous people. The gifts they shower on him is a bit much for his taste, but they distilled a potent drink from the fruit trees of the island. The drink they called cardon, and despite being non-alcoholic it stung the eyes and numbed the lips before inducing a pleasant lightheadedness, which of course took several barrels before it had an impact on Domnall. The island they called Chefornak, and it was a vicious place indeed. With all his heart Domnall wished it were a bar, so that he could wrestle the giant snakes and titanic primates that lived there. The Cheforna claimed that they had once lived on the northern part of continental Golgannis, and that they had been pushed off of their land by a rival tribe called the Katoba. It was a strange story, and as Domnall drank more and more of the cardon he felt himself ever more sympathetic to their cause. Vowing to help them, he decides he will speak to the other gods about the ever more complicated Commeran zoning laws regarding alcohol selling establishments. (expansions get! +10 income, -40 wealth) The Stahl: 9, 5, 2, 12 The mountains of the Stahl had not been filled with so many children in a very long time, since perhaps the very first words of Platinum. They arrived from beneath the mountain at the mental age of eight, and bodies to fit. However, their time in the presence of the Platinum had taught them a great deal more than the other Stahl had expected, and the children of the Platinum quickly become known as young upstarts with no respect for authority of anything less than the Platinum himself. They do not settle in well with their foster families, and constantly yearn for the heat of the lava. They are especially rebellious against the education system, which puts them in groups with the naturally-born Stahl, whom they consider inferior. This is partially right, as many of them find the curriculum boring and outdated compared to the teachings of the Platinum. So many of them skip their classes to bathe in the lava that they disrupt the training of the Long Gang, who are unprepared to deal with those that they are uncomfortable with harming for breaking the rules. (No successes) As Liu Chii pushes south, he quickly stumbles across a mountain rich with ores just east of the great massacre. Though he carries with him a feeling of being watched, it is too good of a location to pass up. The ground breaks easily and the stone beneath it is hard, and the mountain will provide a great source of income for the Golden Kings. (Expansion GET, -10 wealth, +5 income) Aripa: 4, 13, 18, 5 The Children of the Philosopher had never truly been prepared for war. They had tried to live by his largely pacifistic teachings, and practice their trades. Yet now they were threatened by an external and disorderly force, a group who did not follow the rightful teachings. Inventors, sorcerers and plowmen all take up arms in defense of the practice their trades. Yet now they were threatened by an external and disorderly force, a group who did not follow the rightful teachings. Inventors, sorcerers and plowmen all take up arms in defense of the Teacher, creating noxious concoctions and disorienting spells to impede and subdue their foes. It is difficult, however, to become the orderly forces that the rigors of the Philosopher demand. In the end, about half of the volunteers are aligned into regiments and separated by skills in a timely manner. (two armies raised). Commera: 12, 20, 9, 10 “Why are we doing this again?” “Because the garden needs to look perfect for the Mayor when he gets here?” “But why did we build all this?” “Because he paid us?” “Weren’t those tax dollars?” “Eh. At least his book was a flop.” The rolling green lawns of the Uridal Mansion were a sight to behold and a wonder of all Commera. The house itself, built in the Commeran post-modern style, features hand carved columns alongside wrought iron torches. While considered exorbitantly lavish, it quickly attracted paparazzi and tourists alike, as well as many upset readers coming to return their underwhelming book. Since they Mayor had primarily hired workers to tame the land, it provided little insight with the fanciful stories the mayor written primarily from imagination. (Expansion get, -20 wealth +10 income. No other successes.) Phantasmagoria: 1, 10, 13, 15, 8 At first, the welcoming feast for the Katoba is a great success. The Katoba enjoy the presence of the spirits and animals and golems, as they have become used to the idea of spirits living to their southern borders. But as the hour grows late, Hypnosomus cannot stop himself from breaking into song himself. For Katoba and animals alike, the sound is horrifying. It is a deep and melodic warbling, that seems to radiate not only from deep within the earth, but also from within their own minds. Before Hypnosomus recognizes what is happening, the Katoba have fled the great celebration, and the massive bonfire has blossomed out of control, destroying the field of plants he was hoping to incentivize the Icelos with. Once more he is filled with sadness. There is, however, another grove. One Hypnosomus had kept secret and safe from outsiders and danger. There, his mindfruit grows in hundreds of different shapes and sizes, emitting scents that were incomparable and incomprehensible. Yet despite the strangeness, many animals find what they crave in the grove, and begin congregating when Hypnosomus grows the corresponding fruit. (+1 army raisins, no slowgrowth) NBR: 12, 2, 6, 9 It is almost impossible for the Republic’s diplomats that they are willing to work with the bears to reach a peaceful solution to their problems. This is largely due to the fact that none of them speak bear, and also that their only translator had been accidentally served for a midway snack during the negotiations. On top of this, Sir Snufflebottom was present during that day’s fiasco involving the sea cows, who are bopped on the nose when they clumsily attempt to help build ships. He does not trust that the NBR respect any kind of animal, bears or not. Meanwhile the ursine upstarts continue to gain ground, with the primary fuzzy force arriving in the capital as night falls on the diplomats. Sir Snufflebottom, quite tuckered out after the long day, passes out on top of the deliberation table, and the Beliznayans quickly flee the smelly ambassador. They hope that they can resume peace talks soon, as the consequences of their actions bear down on them. (1 success, 2 more needed to peacefully end the rebellion, 2 turns until total ursine domination, +2 culture.) Category:Nationbuilder VII Turn Records